


Group Therapy: A Joker x Harleen One-Shot (Part 1)

by chickadee333



Series: My Joker x Harleen Quinzel Series [4]
Category: DC Extended Universe, DCU, DCU (Comics), Suicide Squad (2016), Suicide Squad (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Arkham Asylum, DC comics - Freeform, Doctor Patient Relationship, F/M, Harley - Freeform, Harley Quinn - Freeform, Joker - Freeform, Joker porn, Joker smut, Joker x Harley - Freeform, JxHQ, Leto Joker, Sex, Smut, impossible love, joker x harleen - Freeform, jxh, porn with a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 09:31:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11438046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickadee333/pseuds/chickadee333
Summary: Dr. Harleen Quinzel is asked to fill in for an absent co-worker who was scheduled to lead a group therapy session. What happens when Harleen guides a group of misfit patients through techniques in anger management while being eye-fucked by the Joker? Read to find out! Fair warning, this is NSFW and ends in some angsty smuttiness.This is based around the setting and characters of my fic Impossible Love. This one-shot could ostensibly be placed somewhere near the beginning of Chapter 3, but I do not plan to add it in since it contains sexual content and it would mess up my plot. No ret-conning here!





	Group Therapy: A Joker x Harleen One-Shot (Part 1)

“Harleen?” Dr. Edwards called out as he tapped on the open door. “Harleen, are you in here?” he continued, stepping into her office.

“Oh, huh?” Dr. Quinzel said with surprise as she sat in a corner hidden by a bookshelf surrounded by piles of paperwork. “Oh, hey, Wayne. Sorry, I’m just trying to organize some of the stuff that has apparently been kept around here since, oh… I don’t know… the 1970s!” She looked up and smiled while using a slender finger to push up the glasses that had been resting on the middle of her nose.

“Wow, that is quite a selection of piles you have there…” he stated with his arms on both of his sides surveying the mess in the young doctor’s office.

Harleen smoothed down the hem of her navy blue dress with large white polka-dots as she began to describe each pile. “Well, I have a pile for outdated policy memos, a pile for old discharges, a pile for pharmaceutical orders, a pile for old case progress notes, a pile for flowsheets, a pile for injectible medication logs, a pile for… wait, what is  _this_  pile?” She paused while looking at a giant pile of papers hidden behind a box next to the wall. “Oh my god, I thought I was almost done!”

“Well, why don’t you take a break from this for a while, hm? I actually have a request and I was hoping you could help out.” Dr. Edwards removed his glasses and held them up to the light filtering in through the ancient windows.

“Oh, well, okay, I guess I can lend some help. What do you need?” Harleen attempted to stand up without toppling any piles when Dr. Edwards chivalrously held out a hand for her to balance herself. She stepped into her toeless navy wedge heels and deftly jumped out of the center of the paper acropolis with the skill of a former gymnast. She straightened her dress so her shiny white belt sat in place on her hips and pulled her long blonde hair away from her neck in order to ensure that her collar was lying flat. She didn’t always wear cute dresses to work—especially when she was seeing patients—but today she had no appointments and she planned to go out to eat lunch with a few co-workers at the re-opening of the Main Street Deli in the small town in which the asylum resided. Normally, she was all business around her patients: dark slacks, a loose blouse, white lab coat, and flats. Harleen was wise beyond her 29 years and had a strong work ethic—one that included conducting herself with complete professionalism around her clients… that is, until the Joker had been assigned to her caseload.

“Dr. Bremmer just called to say that he won’t be in at all today,” Dr. Edwards informed her.

“Oh, bummer, we were going to go out for lunch,” Harleen responded with a pout. “Do you need me to take an appointment or two?” This was common practice for the staff to pitch in and help absent co-workers instead of canceling appointments and delaying therapy sessions for their patients.

“Actually, he had a group therapy session scheduled for 11:00 this morning… Is there any chance you can take that?”

Harleen looked down at her exposed toes painted with a sparkly pink polish. “Oh, um, a group therapy session?”

“It has some of the bigger troublemakers… Karlo, Day, Fries, Jones… he’s the one who thinks he’s a crocodile or an alligator or something… oh, and The Joker. But I could get Dr. Carlyle to take the session. He said he could but he would have to move some appointments around,” Dr. Edwards quickly added, sensing a slight hesitation from Harleen.

“No, no, no. I can do it. It’s not a problem!” Harleen said defiantly—as if she would  _ever_  hand over the task to Dr. Carlyle. She scowled to herself knowing that Dr. Edwards approached Carlyle first.  _Probably because Carlyle’s a man and Edwards doesn’t think a woman can handle it,_  she thought as she turned her head and rolled her eyes out of his view. “I can handle it,” she insisted, “I just wasn’t expecting a group session, that’s all.”

“Okay, here is the file that Bremmer has from this group with a few case notes. They’ll be in Room 213 and they’ll all be in jackets,” Edwards explained as he handed the manila file folder to Harleen. “Thanks, Harleen,” he said as he turned and walked out of her office.

“Danny owes me for this one!” she called out as Edwards disappeared from her view.

Harleen leaned against a table near the doorway and paged through Dr. Bremmer’s notes. Karlo was a washed-up actor who went on a murderous rampage. Day was a mass murderer who committed crimes based on the calendar. Fries thought his wife was cryogenically frozen and committed crimes in order to raise money for research when she was actually dead. Jones thought he was an anthropomorphic crocodile because he suffered from a rare skin disorder. And the Joker… well, Harleen had already experienced therapy sessions with the Joker.

It was mid-November and she had convinced Dr. Edwards to assign the Joker to her caseload over a month ago despite the fact that he was considered to be a “lost cause.” The entire patient population at Arkham Asylum could be viewed as a lost cause, but that didn’t stop Harleen from trying. She helped the Joker as best as she could by listening to him—mainly listen to  _him_  prod  _her_  with personal questions—and through showing him that she cares about him as a person. As a psychiatrist, she took her oath very seriously to do no harm, to not judge actions, and to provide unconditional positive regard to her patients. She felt that her commitment to these tenets of her profession was what made her so effective at her job. While she understood that her patients would probably never be rehabilitated—a fact that sometimes made her feel like her job was purposeless, as if she were merely a babysitter for these unsalvageable men—she also knew that she was providing them with a little hope, a little guidance, and maybe a little glimmer of their own humanity.

She continued reading the case notes and found her mind wandering to the Joker. While she only had a little over a month of experience with his case, she quickly found that there was something inexplicably alluring about him. She thought of the way that she could feel his cold blue eyes boring a hole through her body during their sessions together. She was sure he had studied her every feature… and she enjoyed it. She found herself wearing a few more pieces of jewelry on the days she had a session with him. Or she might conveniently forget her lab coat so he could have a view of her in a professional-yet-sexy blouse. But he had never seen her in a dress—a dress that stopped above the knees, had no sleeves, and provided an abbreviated view of her cleavage.

 _I could have fun with this,_  she thought as she looked down at her bare legs. She tried so hard to not break the professional boundary by thinking about her patients in a personal—in a  _sexual_ —way. She tried, but she always failed when it came to the Joker. She couldn’t help but think about what he would be like as a lover. What would his kiss feel like? Would he be rough or gentle… or both? What would he be like in bed? How big was his…

“Harleen!” she scolded herself in a loud whisper and then chuckled as she thought about how he might have similar dirty thoughts about her. Looking up at the clock, she saw that she had ten minutes until her session and began gathering documents to take with her. She threw on her white lab coat and dug for her compact and lipstick in her purse. Smacking her lips together after a fresh application of light pink gloss, she smiled at herself and hoped that the Joker would not be able to take his eyes off of her. Grabbing her folder, she left the room.

*****

Harleen reached Room 213 to find that the orderlies had already delivered the patients to the room with the exception of the Joker. Her heart sunk as she placed her folder on the old green metal desk at the front of the room. It was laid out like a classroom… but in a dungeon. The walls were a putrid gray with one small window high up the wall providing a glimpse of the sky outside, which was blue and crisp and beautiful. How she so preferred to be outside sitting on a park bench somewhere listening to the birds and just enjoying nature. But here she was instead… in a room… full of murderers.

Harleen squinted her eyes as she turned from the dreamy, cloudless sky to the hard fluorescent lighting in the room. The four men were seated in a semi-circle around the desk, their eyes glazed and tired as they sat imprisoned in their straitjackets. Harleen felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of these once-free men now stuck in a place like Arkham… forever.

“Got one more for ya,” the head guard, Winston, said as he poked his head into the room and then stepped inside. He gave Harleen a once-over and nearly spoke before physically biting his lip. Winston had long pined for the pretty Dr. Quinzel. He had daydreams of helping her after a session or helping her in her office where their hands would touch or he would brush her hair from her face. And then they would kiss… or maybe do more. He had hoped beyond hope that she would give him a chance. He didn’t like that she was giving so much attention to the Joker—he didn’t like that she gave  _any_  of her patients attention—but he knew that she was just doing her job. The Joker, however, really got under his skin and quickly became the object of his ire.

Two orderlies rounded the doorway with a green-haired man in their grasp, and Harleen’s heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of his emerald locks and pale skin. Suddenly, the Joker fell out of the orderlies’ grip and onto the floor, rolling his body to land gracefully on his shoulder—a hard task while wearing a straitjacket. Harleen looked up to see Winston laugh and pull his foot back.

“Mr. Joker, are you all right?” Harleen asked as she rounded the desk and crouched down placing her hand on his uninjured shoulder.

“Oh, well hello, doll,” Joker said in his tell-tale gruff voice as he brought his gaze up to meet hers. He saw her painted toes peeking out of her shoes and noticed her bare legs, which in her crouched position almost gave him a view all the way up to her crotch. He had decided then and there that the view was worth the fall.

Harleen continued to rub his shoulder with a look of concern on her face.

“Guys, help me get him up,” she said to the orderlies as they lifted the straitjacketed man from the floor and helped him to his seat. She gave a stern look at Winston as he smirked and walked away to his post just outside the door, whistling quietly to himself. “Thanks guys. Can you shut the door?”

“Sure thing, Dr. Q,” one of the orderlies responded. “Don’t forget the panic button under the lip of the desk if you need anything,” he whispered in her ear before leaving.

“Got it,” she said as she turned to her group of misfits. The four original participants had no reaction to the commotion with the Joker—a testament to the efficacy of the drugs which clearly dulled their senses and reactions.  _Sometimes it’s the only way to keep them in control,_  Harleen admitted to herself.

Then she looked at the Joker who was staring at her legs with his mouth slightly agape. His eyes were clear, not deadened. And his reactions were sharp, not muted. This was in thanks to Harleen’s course of treatment, which involved removing him from nearly every medication that the asylum had previously pumped into him. The concoction had seemed to make him even more crazy and violent than he already was, which resulted in him being placed in solitary for two months. Harleen was the first doctor to actually provide him with a sensible course of treatment and a caring hand.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Harleen started. “My name is Dr. Quinzel and I will be filling in for Dr. Bremmer today. I understand that you had started to discuss anger management techniques during your last session and I wanted to pick up on that theme for this session as well.” She looked around the room, purposefully avoiding the Joker’s hard stare. “Mr. Karlo, tell me what makes you angry and what do you do to control it?”

Karlo blinked hard as if he needed some time to comprehend what the doctor had asked of him. “I get angry when people don’t listen to me… I get angry when people tell me that I’m wrong… I get angry when… when… someone tries to rip me off… That really pisses me off!”

“That’s okay, Mr. Karlo,” Harleen replied, sensing his growing frustration. “What do you do to control that anger?”

“You mean, like, count to ten, take deep breaths—that kind of shit?”

“Sure,” Harleen said.

“Nah, I don’t do anything like that. I don’t have the patience. I usually just like to bash heads in and take whatever drug is nearby. I self-medicate,” he explained.

“I see. So have you ever thought of a way to control that anger that doesn’t involve bashing in heads or taking drugs?” Harleen asked.

“Why can’t I just punch them in the face?” Karlo countered.

“Because that’s not what we do in society,” she responded. “There are other ways you can take out your anger. You can exercise, you can paint… What’s one of the things that you like to do, Mr. Jones?”

“I like to punch people who make me mad,” the man with flaky, lizard-like skin responded.

“And why do they make you mad?” Harleen asked, examining his skin. She realized that it must actually hurt to have skin that dry and flaky all the time.  _It would probably make me angry, too,_ she thought to herself.

“Because all they see is my outside… they have created me… society has created me… I’m a monster,” Jones admitted defeatedly.

“You’re not a monster, Mr. Jones, and I’m sorry that you feel that way. There must be positive things that you like to do, right? How do you express yourself or take out your frustrations other than through violence?” Harleen asked, studying the curious lizard man in front of her. She understood why he believed he was a human reptile—a crocodile.  _Society certainly had a hand in creating him_ , she thought to herself.

For the next 45 minutes, she prodded the men with questions about what makes them angry and what they think is an appropriate response to that anger. The Joker was surprisingly quiet until she finally called him out.

“Mr. Joker, how are you feeling today? You haven’t spoken much,” she said with a twinge of disquiet in her voice.

“Oh, sweet doctor, you know what makes me angry,” he finally spoke.

“I do? Please remind me.”

“Being here makes me angry. Not being in control of my destiny makes me angry. Being told what to do, what to eat, when to sleep, when to shower, when to shit… makes me angry,” Joker stated coldly to the rapturous agreement of the other men.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Joker, but you do realize that you are in this very place because you could not control your anger outside of these walls, yes? You  _did_  have control of your destiny, but you let your anger overtake your emotions. You let your anger control  _you_ when you should be in control of your  _anger_.”

The Joker stared at the beautiful woman standing at the front of the room. He gazed at the curve of her breasts and the small taste of cleavage that her plunging neckline offered. Her arms were toned and slim, just like her legs that he got a quick glimpse of earlier. He imagined moving his hands slowly up her smooth bare legs and lifting her skirt to reveal the hidden prize. His cock stiffened at the thought of seeing his gorgeous doctor half-naked and ready for him. He pulled himself out of his reverie by smiling a wide, silvery grin.

“Oh, you’re good, doctor. You’re very good. She’s all mine, fellas, so hands off!” he barked while laughing wildly.

“Listen, men, I know it’s hard to keep your anger in check. But I want to give you a few ideas on how you can control that anger. When you control your anger, you might receive more respect—and you know how important respect is here in this place. It can be the difference between getting pudding for dessert and time in the library versus being placed in the hole for months,” Harleen explained, looking directly at Joker as a reminder of his time spent in solitary.

“When you get angry, try to count to ten,” she continued. “If that doesn’t work, count to twenty. Give yourself time to think before you speak so you don’t regret it later. Give yourself a time-out—maybe do some exercise or reading. Maybe practice some relaxation techniques, like yoga.”

“Would you like to show us some yoga poses, doc?” Joker asked, clearly attempting to get her to show more skin.

“Maybe some other time,” she deflected. “Tell me, Mr. Joker, what types of activities do you like to do to help control your anger?”

“Hm…” he contemplated in a mocking way as he tilted his head and looked at the ceiling. “I like to—“

“Dr. Q,” Winston opened the door and poked his head in effectively cutting off the Joker mid-sentence. “Time is up. The orderlies are here to take the prisoners back.”

 _Ugh, “prisoners,”_  Harleen thought to herself. She referred to them as patients because they were patients first and prisoners second.

“Okay, no problem. Thank you, men, I hope this session was somewhat helpful,” she announced to the group as the orderlies stepped in. “Oh, I’d like Mr. Joker to stay for a few extra minutes, we were not finished with our conversation,” she told the two orderlies as they gathered the other four men and left the room. “I’ll be out in just a minute,” she said to Winston as she closed the door.

“But—” she could hear him protest from the other side as she shut it completely.

“Now, Mr. Joker,” she said as she turned to the man now standing in front of his chair, “I’m sorry that you were interrupted. Please continue. Please tell me what you like to do to control your anger.” Harleen walked to the front of the desk and leaned against it, taking off her lab coat in the process.

Joker cleared his throat as he looked at his doctor. He liked it when a woman was in control and he could see that Harleen was enjoying this little game.

“Well, I was going to say that I like to shoot things,” he said.

“Hm, that’s not a very productive way to alleviate anger,” she countered as the reality sunk in that they were alone in the room. She took the opportunity to lift herself onto the desk and cross her legs, giving the Joker a view from her feet to her mid-thigh. She let her shoe dangle lazily from the end of her toes.

“I guess you could say I do exercise to alleviate my anger,” he responded as he started to amble closer to the front of the room.

“Oh, yeah? What kind of exercise?” she asked.

“You tell me first,” he said with a sly grin. “I’m sure you like to exercise.” His eyes traced a path up her long legs.

“Well, Mr. Joker, you already know that I used to do gymnastics, but I also like to run. I play tennis or racquetball whenever I get a chance,” she replied as she flirtatiously flipped her long blonde locks to one side.

“Oh, is that so?” he asked as she approached her even closer. “I’m a pretty good tennis player...”

“It is so. Now you tell me what you like to do,” she said quietly, unthreatened by his movement as he was strapped in a straitjacket, which she almost wished he was  _not_  wearing.

“Well…” he said in a raspy voice as he drew closer to her, “I guess you could say that I do a lot of  _solo_  exercising… especially after our sessions together.”

“I see,” she said with a suppressed smile, understanding what he was insinuating.

“I sure could use some yoga lessons, though,” he stated, now just a foot away from Harleen. “I think I could benefit from some guidance from a good teacher like you. I’ve been feeling a little  _stiff_  lately.” He looked at her with lust in his clear blue eyes.

“Maybe if you weren’t in Arkham then I might be able to give you a yoga lesson,” she responded with a slight shake in her voice as she realized how close he had moved to her. His hip touched her knee and she uncrossed her legs.

“Well, then maybe I need to figure out a way out of Arkham just so I could get that lesson, doc. You can’t keep me locked up in here forever,” he said.

“I’m not keeping you locked up, Mr. Joker,” she said breathily as he moved closer.

“Maybe not,” he admitted as he was now stationed between her legs and just inches away from her face. “Maybe not, but I think you like me locked up, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t like seeing you locked up, Mr. Jo—” she attempted to reply as his face leaned into hers and their lips brushed gently against each other. Her body flushed with warmth and her pulse raced as she was lip-locked with a man she had fantasized endlessly about—a man who was her patient… “Wait,” she said pulling away, “we can’t do this.”

“We can do whatever we want,” Joker said. “We’re adults. And this is how I alleviate my anger.” He leaned in to kiss her again as she surrendered his mouth to his. His lips were soft and his kiss was gentle—the opposite of what she had expected. His breath was hot on her mouth and he became increasingly frustrated at the fact that his arms were contained in his jacket. He wanted to fulfill the fantasies that he had of his beautiful doctor. Had he been free, he would grab her bare legs and pull her body close to his. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to be inside of her. He could feel his hardened cock trying to break free as if it had a mind of its own.

Sensing his frustration, Harleen grabbed him on his upper arms and squeezed his tight muscles. She then snaked her hands up to his face and around his neck, which she used to pull him closer to her as she kissed him harder, forcing her tongue between his lips.

“I know what you’re thinking of, Mr. Joker. I’m thinking the same thing, too,” she said in a sexy whisper as she removed her hands from his neck and brought them down to his abdomen as they continued to kiss.

Joker attempted to push his pelvis closer to hers but she was seated too far back on the desk. He felt her lips pause as her hand delicately touched the part of his body that was on fire for her. So much fire that he thought he would explode. Harleen grabbed his cock and began to stroke it through his sweatpants as they resumed kissing.

“Move closer,” he commanded with a seriousness that Harleen had never heard from him before.

Harleen moved to the edge of the desk and pulled up her skirt to reveal bright pink panties. Joker breathed a heavy lust-fueled sigh as he looked down and pushed himself between her legs. In that moment, Harleen wanted nothing more than to remove the thin fabric that separated their bodies and allow him entrance to hers. Her face was flushed and her lower abdomen ached with that familiar yearning. She knew she was incredibly wet and the Joker did it to her. He did it every time. His skillful thrusting against her clothed clit caused her whole body to become hot and she knew she was already close to an orgasm. She could only imagine what he would feel like thrusting inside of her and how quickly he would make her cum.

Joker’s breath became erratic as he continued to push himself onto Harleen’s body and kiss the perfect pink lips that he had fantasized kissing a thousand times before. Her hands found their way back up to his head where she grabbed his hair and pulled, causing him to groan in a mixture of pleasure and pain. Harleen scraped her fingers through his hair and down his neck, not quite breaking the skin, but scraping hard enough to leave a trail of red marks.

“Oh, what do you think you’re doin’ to me, doll?” he asked, his gruff voice trembling slightly with an urgent need. “Let me in. I want to be inside of you. I can’t take this anymore.” He pushed his erection as hard as he could against her opening causing a moan to escape Harleen’s throat. "Let me in," he said again, a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Okay," she replied, finally giving in to his pleas. Any vestige of professionalism and control she had escaped out of the tiny window in the dungeon classroom as she decided then and there to let him in. Her entire body ached to feel him inside of her, to feel his earnest thrusting, to feel like she was making a raw and real connection with a man she was told was a monster. She hooked her fingers into his waistband and got a glimpse of his hardened flesh before pausing to hold her breath. She heard footsteps approaching the doorway.

“Get away from me!” she shouted as she pushed the Joker backwards, slapping him in the face. She jumped off of the desk, pulled her skirt down, and quickly stepped to the side.

The door quickly opened and Winston rushed in with his baton and swung, hitting Joker on the back causing him to bend backward in pain and then fall to the floor on his knees.

“No, it’s okay, Winston,” Harleen said, putting her hand on his baton as he raised it to strike the Joker once more. “It’s okay. He just got a little too close.”  _A little too close to cumming between my legs,_ Harleen laughed inwardly.

Joker looked up at Harleen and smiled his trademark silver grin. “Sorry about that, doc. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Harleen replied with a wink out of Winston’s sight. “Now go get some of that ‘exercise’ that you were talking about earlier. Maybe it will alleviate some of your ‘anger.’”

“You bet I will, doc,” Joker responded. He knew he would have to finish pleasuring himself in his cell momentarily. “I’ll be thinking of you the whole time.”

“Oh, come on, you piece of shit. Doc wants you outta here, so move it!” Winston yelled at his prisoner. Joker stood up and stared at Harleen before being forced out the door by Winston.

“Have a nice lunch!” Joker yelled back to Harleen as he began to laugh maniacally. The red scratch marks on his neck had grown deeper in color as she watched him leave the room.

Harleen smirked to herself and reached for her phone in her lab coat.  _Going to b a few mins late, gotta use the restroom, I’ll meet u there_ , she texted to her co-workers who were waiting for her. Harleen gathered her items and headed back to the wing with her office and dropped everything on her desk. She then left immediately for the restroom where she quietly finished what the Joker had started, knowing that he was doing the exact same thing at that exact same time.

*****

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! Please leave a kudo or a comment to let me know what you think!  
> XOXO,  
> D


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